


Never Go To Sleep Angry

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never imagined that the first time he kissed Cas he'd receive the silent treatment afterwards. He'd always hoped that when they finally got their heads out of their asses, once that hurdle was passed, things would get easier. He's not sure what he's planning on doing when he knocks on Cas' door to confront him, but it sure wasn't this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Go To Sleep Angry

Dean was never good at getting the cold shoulder. He'd go out of his way to try to turn the mood round of whoever was annoyed at him, whether he felt they were justified or not. He'd spent all of his childhood trying and failing to meet his father's approval, and attempting to judge other people's moods had become ingrained as a result.

With Sam, it was okay. He knew, for the most part, when to push, when to leave alone, when to sidle up to him with his favourite candy and leave it there as a peace offering like they'd always done as kids. With Bobby, he'd never been good at having him disappointed at him for more than a few minutes, and Bobby had accused him on more than one occasion of having worse puppy dog eyes than Sam ever did. Bobby could never stay in a mood at either of the boys anyway, not really.

With Cas, Dean was lost.

He hated it when he'd pissed Cas off, intentionally or otherwise. The slightest glib comment or not thought out teasing and Cas would stiffen, turn away, refuse eye contact. Dean would then spend hours sometimes, coaxing Cas back into talking to him. He'd chew on his lip, worrying at it until it was near bleeding, watching Cas as though that alone would force him to forgive him.

Sam often watched Dean watch Cas, in utter bewilderment at how oblivious the two of them were.

A few nights ago, a crotchety Dean had snapped at Cas on more than one occasion throughout and following a hunt. It had come out of fear and concern, but had actually come out as sounding angry and condescending. The drive back to the bunker as the sun started to rise was sullen, with all three of them overly tired and coiled like springs.

There had been much slamming of doors, throwing down of bags, and aggressive filling of glasses of water, those glasses then banged down on kitchen surfaces with a cold, clinking sound that echoed throughout.

It was at the sink that Dean had finally turned on Cas, gripping him firmly by the forearms.

“Look,” He began, ducking his head just a fraction so that he was at eye level with Cas. “I know I'm a miserable bastard, alright? I know. But you're not much better. And I was worried, okay? So just... stop being mad at me. I hate it when you're mad at me.”

Cas purposely avoided his gaze, turning his face to stare emptily over Dean's shoulder.

“Cas...” Pleading was now in Dean's voice; he was exhausted, but he knew he'd never be able to fall sleep if he went to bed with Cas still angry at him.

“There is no reason for you to talk to me like a child,” Cas huffed, finally deeming to speak to him, albeit in a haughty tone.

“I know,” Dean nodded, wiping a rough hand over his face as though to re-energise himself a little, before returning his grip. “I know, and I'm sorry.”

Cas looked at him then. Dean's sorrys were few and far between, and at least in Cas' case, never said without being meant. Cas relaxed a little under Dean's grip, and Dean's shoulders slumped in relief.

In their tiredness, the usual way they carefully kept a little distance between them slipped, and they relaxed into each other unthinkingly.

Dean would swear he never knew how, but that he'd never regret, the way he found himself kissing Cas then.

He felt Cas' lips under his own, dry and soft and willing, and then he'd felt himself sigh out in a way that said,  _ finally  _ . A hesitant movement and Cas' hands pressed into Dean's chest, before slowly sliding upwards to rest on his shoulders. Dean wove his arms around Cas' back, leaning him against the counter.

The kiss was long, chaste and sleepy.

To Dean, it was perfect. Perhaps not like the thousand different ways he'd imagined kissing Cas for the first time, but perfect nonetheless.

It hadn't happened since.

The following morning, Cas had smiled at him with a faint blush on his cheeks, which Dean had returned in kind. But somehow they'd succeeded in avoiding being alone together, and Dean couldn't help but notice Cas' tone with him was clipped, annoyed, and guarded.

He'd been completely sincere when he'd told Cas he hated him being mad at him, and the thought that Cas was unhappy about Dean kissing him filled Dean with actual despair.

Which is how he'd found himself stood outside Cas' room in the bunker, hand raised to knock but not quite managing to do it yet.

He stood there for a while, rehearsing the things he'd say, and how he thought Cas would respond, and then what he'd say in response. Planning conversations was always exhausting, and Dean found that the ones with Cas in particular never went the way he expected.

In a moment of bravery he knocked, heart jumping at the sound and impending result. He listened as Cas approached the door, swallowing hard when the door was swung open and Cas scowled at him across the doorway.

“Hey,” Dean managed, thickly as though his tongue was swollen.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean peered over his shoulder and shuffled on the spot. “You busy?”

“No.”

“Then,” Dean’s voice cracked, and after he cleared his throat he tried again, “Can I come in?”

Cas' sigh was heavy and put upon, as though Dean was intentionally causing him the most amount of difficulty possible. But he backed away from the door anyway, waving him inside and closing it firmly behind him.

Dean stood awkwardly beside the bed, looking at the chair draped with clothes and not wanting to presume he should sit in either place.

Cas slumped down on to the end of the bed loudly, saying nothing.

Dean's heart sank. He'd hoped, for so long, that when he and Cas finally got round to something definitely in the category as more than friendship, Cas would be a willing participant. He felt stupid now, and hurt, that clearly the kiss that had plastered a stupid grin on his own face for the past few days was not received as it was given.

“I didn't mean to…” he began, “I shouldn't have...” Dean stumbled out, ringing his hands together and fiddling with the ends of his shirt, adjusting the cuffs, anything to keep himself busy.

“I enjoyed our kiss, Dean.”

Dean's eyes widened when Cas finally looked at him, taking in the resigned, weighted look there.

“I thought you-”

“I very much enjoyed our kiss, Dean. Very much.”

A new kind of beating took up in Dean's heart. “Then why are you avoiding me? Why so angry all of a sudden?” he waited for an explanation and watched for so long that he thought Cas was never going to answer him.

“It's so uncomfortable.” Cas finally blurted, and the frustration in his voice Dean would have found comical were it not being aimed in his direction.

“Uncomfortable.” Dean repeated, waiting for confirmation that that was what he’d really heard.

Cas answered by waving a hand vaguely in the area of his lap, a heavy sigh expelled as he curled back in on himself. But not before Dean's eyes automatically flew to what looked like a very uncomfortable bulge in Cas' jeans.

Dean's mouth dried and he stared, dumbstruck.

“I am...almost constantly aroused, Dean. It is...frustrating. And painful. And so much worse when you are anywhere near me. Even more so since we kissed.” Cas frowned at Dean as though he dared him to laugh.

Dean felt a protective kind of affection towards Cas then, even more so than usual. It had only been a month or so since Cas had gone full human, and his coping rate was so impressive that Dean had just assumed that Cas was fine. It had never even occurred to Dean that there were some things Cas would have no clue about, because everything had seemed so effortless. It looked like Dean was very wrong about that.

So Dean did anything but laugh. “I...” his voice cracked out, broken, and he cleared his throat to try once more. “I...you. You ever thought about doing something about...that?” he managed finally in a rush of words, cursing himself for the blush he felt forming on his face as his eyes dropped to Cas’ groin.

Cas' hands slapped heavily against his thighs. “But I don't know how!” he half-yelled, sounding all kinds of irritated.

Dean's mind raced through a thousand thoughts at once; how could Cas not know? How could Cas not have already...in all these weeks? How could.... could he help Cas...?

On and on, all the while his own jeans tightening painfully in response.

“You could... you'd know what to do. If you tried. Instinct. Or you know... Youtube...” he managed weakly as Cas rolled his eyes at him.

For a moment, they sat in silence.

Then Dean found himself standing. He walking towards Cas, raised one knee on to the bed and then swung himself forward, the other knee resting at Cas' other side.

He steadied himself with a hand on Cas’ shoulder and Dean lowered himself, eyes never leaving Cas', his breath catching in his throat as Cas' eyes grew wide.

When Cas' mouth fell open at the feel of Dean's own...discomfort... on his, Dean cupped Cas' face, and this kiss was anything but chaste. He nipped at Cas' mouth, encouraging it open and darting his tongue inside, closing his eyes with a moan as Cas slid his tongue under his in exploration. Cas' hands rested on Dean's thighs before sliding up to his hips, fingers digging in. He kissed back hungrily, uncontrolled gasps escaping in the few seconds their lips weren't on each other.

“See how easy you find kissing, Cas? You feel...so good,” Dean breathed into his mouth, eyes half closed.

“This... isn't...helping,” Cas managed to pant out, his eyes too fluttering closed at the feel of Dean's fingers in his hair.

Dean pressed himself into Cas but pulled back to stare at him intently. “I...I could help you. You know. If you want...”

Cas froze, an expression that was part fear, part want, part uncertainty. “Help me?”

Dean nodded, swallowing thickly. “Mmhmm.” His eyes flicked downward to Cas’ lap for another second.

Cas' mouth opened and closed again. “I...don't know if I'd even like it,” he finally settled on saying.

Dean snorted. “C'mon, Cas. Everyone likes it.”

“Not necessarily,” Cas retorted with a quick shake of his head. His eyes rested on Dean's lips, and Dean took that as a signal to kiss him again. He pressed himself into him, feeling Cas’ throat stutter beneath his fingers.

“Let me...” he whispered against Cas' lips, pressing a kiss onto his nose, his forehead, and at a spot just beneath Cas' jaw that seemed to make him whimper.

“I don’t know…” Cas’ fingers curled into Dean’s shirt and he couldn't meet his eyes.

Dean lifted Cas’ chin, breathing a soft, “please…” into his mouth.

He felt Cas nod slowly and let out a shuddering breath in response, resting their foreheads together.

“Thank you,” Dean smiled then, sitting back and moving himself so that he now knelt beside Cas.

Cas let out a long breath as though to calm himself. When his eyes met Dean’s they were full of trust, but there was still hesitance there. Dean had every intention of taking that away.

Dean nodded towards the pillows at the head of the bed, and rested a hand on Cas’ arm. “Reckon you can scoot up here a little for me?”

Cas did as asked, awkwardly laying his hands over each other on that tiny stretch of skin above his jeans. Dean looked at that skin in fascination, idly wondering what response he’d get if he bent down to lick it.

The look on Cas’ face reined him in; one thing at a time.

Instead, Dean reached out, a thumb and finger resting on the button of Cas’ jeans. “Can I?”

Cas nodded, hands falling to his sides and clenching into the duvet.

Dean flicked open the button and slowly slid down Cas’ fly, eyes never leaving Cas even as he gave a little gasp at the sudden freedom he felt from his jeans. Dean raised his hands, fingers skimming over Cas’ hip bones and hooking lightly under the edge of his boxers. He leaned down to kiss Cas then, again asking for permission.

Cas nodded a little faster, breathing hard as Dean slid his thumbs down under the fabric. His fingers spread out and did the same; when Cas felt Dean pulling his boxers and jeans he raised his hips, allowing Dean to pull them down and off slowly in one go.

Dean couldn't stop himself from looking down; Cas was swollen, painfully hard, and possibly the most glorious thing Dean had ever seen in his life. His mouth watered, and again he had to stop himself from allowing his thoughts to wander to things Cas definitely didn't seem ready for just yet.

Instead, he dragged his eyes upward to meet Cas’, mumbling, “Damn, Cas. You any idea how hot you are?”

This seemed to be the very thing to say, because the tension Dean could see Cas holding on to slipped away as Cas offered up a shy smile. Dean rewarded him with a kiss, his hand gently resting on Cas’ stomach and pushing his shirt up a little, exposing more skin.

“This is where I should ask you if you trust me,” Dean mumbled, one hand now resting on Cas’ hip. He waited until Cas nodded, then nodded back, taking his own controlling breath.

Dean brushed his fingers gently from the base of Cas’ cock and upwards, feeling it jump in response and Cas’ breath hitch in surprise. He ran his thumb in a circle over Cas’ head, smearing down the liquid already pooling there and smiling at the startled noise Cas let escape.

Gently Dean wrapped his fingers around Cas, feeling himself straining against his own zipper at the weight of Cas in his hand. And slowly, eyes never leaving Cas’, he began stroking him.

Dean could never have fantasised about just how good Cas sounded, or felt. He watched his face, and the way his lips parted, listening to the litany of moans that escaped with each stroke. Every time Dean circled his thumb over Cas’ head he gave a choking whine, and Dean smiled in encouragement.

When Cas involuntarily started thrusting into Dean’s hand, his eyes widened, and he shook his head against his pillow as though he thought he was doing something wrong.

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s good. Real good,” Dean licked his lips, cataloguing every one of Cas’ moves and moans.

“I feel…” Cas blurted out in a hurry, worry in his voice.

“What do you feel, Cas?” Dean leaned down to kiss him, reassuring him.

“I feel… there’s heat. In my abdomen. And it feels stretched. Too stretched,” His words came out hurried, and he looked down at Dean’s hand wrapped around him then back up to his face.

“It’s okay, Cas. I promise. It’s supposed to feel like that. I promise.”

“And my…” Cas’ voice managed to sound shy and his gaze flicked down further.

Dean stopped his stroking and Cas whimpered; Dean smiled at that, pressing another kiss into his lips and moving his hand down slowly to cup Cas’ balls. Cas let out another startled gasp and his knees parted automatically.

“S’good, Cas,” Dean mumbled thickly, fingers massaging and pressing in all the ways he liked on himself. “Do that. Open your legs a little more for me.”

Cas did, letting out another surprised moan. “Are they… should they feel like that?” he asked in a whisper, watching Dean’s hand.

“Like what?”

“Tight. Like they’re...tensing.”

Dean nodded, biting down on his lip to try to maintain some kind of control over himself.

“It’s so hot. So hot. In my stomach. I don’t know if-”

“Shh…” Dean kissed away his words, his hand shifting back to start stroking Cas again and loving how Cas arched at his touch. “It’s okay. It’s supposed to feel like that.”

Cas’ eyes fluttered and his mouth opened and closed, choked gasps punctuating the thrust of his hips.

“I'm going to speed up a little, okay?” and again, Dean waited for permission before doing just that.

“Dean,” Cas gasped out urgently, the worry back in his voice. “Dean… I don’t know if I can-”

“Does it hurt?” Dean asked softly, keeping up the same rhythm but ready to stop if Cas asked him to.

Cas shook his head repeatedly.

“Is it bad?”

“Nno. No, Dean. Not bad. Feels really good. Really good. But I don’t know if-”

“Hey,” Dean whispered, pressing another kiss into his lips. “I promise, Cas. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He licked his way into Cas’ mouth, thrusting his tongue in in time with the pumping of his hand. Cas groaned heavily in response, thrusting his hips up in a juddering movement in response.

“Can I make you come, Cas?” he asked quietly, in between more kisses. “Please?”

Cas’ eyes were wide but he was nodding rapidly in agreement, mouth gasping open and closed as Dean changed the pressure and pace of his stroking again.

“Dean,” he choked out, and suddenly that was the only word he seemed able to remember. Over and over he chanted Dean’s name, the tone of it heading straight to Dean’s own cock in a way that told him he would come hard and fast himself later. He kept his focus on Cas though, revelling in the way Cas writhed at his touch and his hands gripped knuckle-white to the bed.

“Dean!” he breathed out, a tremble in his voice, and a terrified look on his face as he looked down to watch Dean’s now furious pounding of his cock.

“It’s good, Cas, I promise, you’re doing so good.”

“Dean…” Cas’ tone was urgent, reverent, terrified and in awe. Dean held his breath as Cas gave one final, jerky thrust up into his hand, moaning out the most dirty of sounds Dean thought he had ever heard, and coming hard and hot over Dean’s hand and his own stomach.

Cas seemed to melt into the bed, his breath forced out in short bursts. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and Dean pressed a kiss into his temple, tasting the salt there.

Dean gently milked him until Cas’ hips stuttered and then removed his hand, resting it lightly on Cas’ side.

Cas closed his eyes, breath deepening, and for a moment Dean wondered if he’d fallen asleep. But then his eyes cracked blue and his hand reached out, grabbing the back of Dean’s neck and forcing him down into a kiss. Dean happily obliged.

When Cas pulled away, Dean rested his head on his chest, then placed a kiss there before sitting up to look around the room for something to wipe Cas down with. He picked up the discarded boxers from the floor and cleaned him up as best he could before roughly wiping his own hand. He then laid back down beside Cas, waiting.

Cas’ arm reached out hesitantly, looping around Dean’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“You good, Cas?”

Dean felt Cas kiss his hair and mumble into it, and smiled into the crook of his neck.

They laid in silence, Dean enjoying the simplicity of just watching Cas’ chest rise and fall. He almost complained when Cas turned so that they were facing one another, Cas’ eyes intently focused on Dean’s own.

Dean bit back a gasp as Cas’ hand reached out to stroke along Dean’s still swollen length though his jeans.

“Do you want me to…?” Cas’ voice drifted off uncertainly, and there was a frown on his face that Dean couldn't help kiss away. “I… don’t know if I could… as good...but…”

Dean would not say out loud how adorable an embarrassed-sounding Cas was, but he would think it over and over and smile internally.

“It’s okay, Cas,” he said, smiling against his lips, “this was about you.”

“But doesn't it… isn't it uncomfortable?”

“Sure. But it’s fine. I’ll… deal with it later,” he added, knowing his cheeks flushed at his own words.

Cas sucked his lower lip into his mouth and Dean groaned against him.

“Dean. Don’t you want me to see?”

Dean’s hand reached up instantly to cup Cas’ face, forcing him to look at him. “You can see all of me, Cas. Anything you want.”

Cas smiled and raised his eyebrows as if to prompt him.

Dean kept Cas’ gaze as he reached down, fumbling open his own button and fly. He sprang out thickly against Cas’ thigh and Cas smiled happily at the sight and feel of it.

Cas leaned over Dean, pressing him onto his back. He then rolled back, propping himself up on one arm and resting a hand on his side, eyes turned towards Dean’s hand expectantly.

Dean’s cock jumped in response at that look, and he knew from here on out, Cas would be able to get him to do literally anything.

He wrapped his hand around himself, groaning deeply. Cas bit down on his own lip at that, his eyes riveted as Dean began stroking himself.

“Dean,” he breathed, wonder in his voice that only added to the feeling building in Dean as he quickened his pace, his other hand reaching down to cup his balls. Cas’ eyes widened and his tongue darted out to flick against his lips as he watched.

Dean let his knees fall open, and to his surprise, Cas wriggled down the bed, transfixed by Dean’s hands. Dean may have felt a little self conscious, but the looks Cas kept sneaking up at him and the way he watched him working himself did nothing but make him groan low and loud, completely forgetting any inhibitions.

“Cas,” he stuttered out, and Cas looked startled but pleased at the use of his name. He gave up any lingering sense of holding back then, throwing his head back against the pillow and working himself furiously. Cas’ name was on his lips with the final thrust that tipped him over the edge, coming in thick stripes over his own stomach.

Cas’ smile was a mile wide as he looked up at Dean with an expression that read nothing but awe.

Dean closed his eyes as he took a moment, but they shot open again at Cas mirroring his earlier gesture of wiping him down. The tender look on Cas’ face made Dean also grin like an idiot, and a feeling of happiness settled in Dean’s chest.

They turned back to face each other, far too spent to begin the conversation that they would need to have. Instead, Cas whispered, “Stay.”

Dean answered by gesturing for Cas to move so that they could wriggle beneath the duvet, but not before removing his shirt and waiting for Cas to do the same. He pressed one more long kiss into Cas’ lips and took a moment to trace his fingers through the stubble at Cas’ jaw. Then he pulled him close, sighing with contentment at the feel of Cas curling against him.

No one was going to sleep angry or with misunderstanding tonight.

  
  
  



End file.
